the sweetest song, Geoffrey thought, that he had ever heard.




CHAPTER VI.


INFORMATION

The next day and the next Geoffrey avoided the garden as if it were
a haunt of cobras. The dining-room, too, was a place of terror to him,
and at each meal he paused before entering the room, nerving himself
for what he might have to face. This was wholly unreasonable, he
told himself repeatedly; it was ridiculous; it was--the young man
was not one to spare himself--it was unprofessional.

"Oh, yes, I know all that," he replied; "but they shouldn't cry.
There ought to be a law against their crying."

Here it occurred to him that he had seen his cousins cry many times,
and had never minded it; but that was entirely different, he said.

However, he need not distress himself, it appeared; Vesta Blyth kept
her room for several days. At first Geoffrey found it easier not to
speak of her; but the third day he pounced on Miss Vesta when she
was filling her lamp, and startled her so that she almost dropped
her scissors.

"Excuse me, Miss Vesta," he said; "what funny scissors! I shouldn't